


Weak Point

by zuotian



Series: Kenman Week 2018 [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Abuse, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: When Karen's doll is ruined, Kenny - knowing the perfect kryptonite - barters with Cartman for one of his prized possessions.





	Weak Point

**Author's Note:**

> ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFICTION—EVEN THOSE BASED ON A REAL SHOW—ARE ENTIRELY GRATUITOUS. ALL CANONICAL DIALOGUE IS IMPERSONATED ... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFICTION CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.

Kenny looked down at the burnt remains of Karen’s doll so that she couldn’t see his hopeless expression. 

 

In a drunken stupor, their father had knocked down an ashtray on top of the doll which laid flammably prone on the carpet. One smouldering cigarette butt after another bore holes into its fabric skin until it was deformed and charred. Stuart didn’t notice, unceasing in his stumble toward the kitchen for another bottle of smores schnapps. Kenny was alerted only when Karen presumably walked into the living room to retrieve the doll and screamed his name. He’d been in the middle of a Final Fantasy boss fight, but quickly tossed his PSP aside and raced out his bedroom door, expecting the worst. 

 

He slowed in relief at the lack of blood or bruises. Besides that, Karen was nine now, and McCormick kids grew up fast - no complaints and no bawl-bagging, or else you’d get backhanded - but she kept crying and crying anyway, snot dripping down to her lip. 

 

He bent down to inspect the doll, moved the ashtray aside, and carelessly stomped out the rest of the cigarettes. Then he picked up the doll, covered with gray ash, in his hands.

 

“You can - fix it - right, Kenny?” Karen asked between sobs, with such trust in her older brother it made Kenny feel guilty because he knew sometimes he just couldn’t follow through. 

 

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s kinda really fucked up.” 

 

“But it’s my doll,” Karen protested. Her tears lessened as she stubbornly scowled. “I’ve had it for forever!” 

 

That was true. He remembered checking on her countless nights as their parents fought and drank, the doll held tight in her hands like it was an invincible talisman, even after the age when she should’ve grown out of such behavior. Her doll held years of safety and comfort, ruined in a second by one of their parents’ stupid mistakes.

 

Kenny dropped the doll and, forgetting the soot on his fingers, rubbed his forehead. He looked like it was Ash Wednesday. 

 

“I don’t know, Karen,” he said. “I don’t think so.” 

 

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She scooped the doll up and held it to her chest, sniveling. 

 

Kenny grit his teeth, growing impatient with her emotion. “What do you want me to do? Take her to the doll hospital? I can’t fix everything! Maybe you need to grow up and realize that.” 

 

Karen stared at him. Kenny’s chest burned with immediate shame. He forgot Karen was still younger than him, and that the McCormick brand of emotional suppression hadn’t yet been taught to her. Maybe now was the time.

 

Or not. Her face screwed up in childish rage. “I hate you,” she shouted at him, “I hate you, and I hate this house, and I hate my life!” 

 

“Karen,” Kenny implored.

 

“Shut up! I hate you! I just…” She crumpled again into messy crying. “I just want my doll back!” 

 

Kenny turned to see Stuart watching them from the kitchen doorway. Spurred by his son’s glance, Stuart sat down at the table with a new schnapps in hand. He brought the bottle to his lips, took a swig, then licked his lips with a terse sigh. 

 

“What you hollerin bout, girl?” 

 

Karen looked at Kenny, then held out her doll to her father. “You burnt her with an ashtray.” 

 

“I didn’t do shit,” Stuart snapped. 

 

“You tripped and it fell over on top of her.” 

 

“I bust my balls six outta seven days a week. I come home to have a coupla drinks. And my own daughter - comes at me with accusations?” Stuart shook his head. “It ain’t right.” 

 

Karen’s brows slanted in anger. “It’s your fault!” 

 

Stuart slammed the bottle hard on the table and pointed at her. “You watch your tone with me!” 

 

Karen jolted, and Kenny grabbed her wrist. “Come on,” he said, “forget it.” 

 

Stuart leaned back in his chair and smirked at Kenny. “Listen to your brother. He isn’t a total fuckin retard just yet.”

 

Karen glared at Stuart, then pushed Kenny away and ran to her room with her broken doll. 

 

Stuart pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. “Get me that ashtray, boy,” he commanded. 

 

Kenny picked the ashtray up, walked over, and tossed it onto the table. It spun around like a coin before settling next to the schnapps bottle with a soft clink. 

 

“Sit down,” his father said. 

 

“No.” Kenny crossed his arms. “Why’d you have to do that?” 

 

“She’ll get over it. It’s about time she stopped lugging that thing around anyway.” 

 

“No, she won’t.” 

 

“Oh yes she will. If she keeps crying like that she knows what’s comin to her.” 

 

“You can’t just beat the sad out of us,” Kenny said. 

 

Stuart narrowed his eyes over the lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He bent over the table, extended his arm, and whopped Kenny’s eye. The blow glanced off his eye socket and connected at his temple.

“Go to your goddamn room, or I’ll beat the  _ smart _ outta you!” 

 

“Fine!” 

 

Kenny stormed down the hall. He stopped at Karen’s room and peeked in. She was curled up in bed, her back turned to the door. 

 

“I’m leaving,” Kenny told her. “When I come back, I’ll have something new for you.” He sat down on the edge of her mattress and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I can’t fix your doll. But I can try to find something different.” 

 

Karen looked at him over her shoulder. “He hit you.”

 

“It’s whatever.”

 

She frowned, wiggling deeper under her blanket. “Do you promise?” 

 

He nodded. “Promise.” 

 

She shrugged. “Okay.” 

 

Kenny snuck out the window in his bedroom. Cold seeped in through his tattered tennis shoes and thin socks once he dropped onto the snowy ground. His feet grew numb as he trekked across town, toward the only person he could approach for help. He couldn’t buy something, wouldn’t accept handouts - but he could barter, and all the other kids knew the one kid who always wanted to make a deal.

 

By the time he arrived at Cartman’s house dusk had settled its orange hues deep in the town. Kenny watched the front door, hands pocketed in his parka, before walking up the steps and knocking. He rocked back and forth on his heels in wait. 

 

“Moooom!” Kenny heard from inside. “Somebody’s at the dooooor!” 

 

Liane opened the door moments later. “Oh, hi, Kenny!” She stood aside. “Eric, honey, it’s Kenny.” 

 

Cartman groaned, sitting on the couch with a bowl of cheesy poofs and Mr. Kitty in his lap. If it were anybody else, he’d have shoved the cat away in a fake show of bravado. Instead, he continued petting the cat whilst measuring Kenny up like some mafia boss. 

 

“What do you want?” Cartman asked. 

 

“Came to pawn. Hoping to trade,” Kenny said. 

 

Liane put a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. “Are you hungry dear? We just finished eating. Cartman’s having his after-dinner snack, but we have leftovers in the fridge.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Kenny said, even though he was starving. 

 

“Leave him alone, Mom,” Cartman ordered. He shuffled his ass off the couch and stood. “Come with me.” 

 

Mr. Kitty following at their ankles, they went down to the basement, which Cartman had recently turned into some parody of a pawn shop. It was part of his latest scheme, swindling kids of their goods for shittier items. He was a great salesman and had terrible ethics, so it was perfect. 

 

“You should sell cars when you’re older,” Kenny told him, sitting down on a futon Liane had bought a couple years ago. Mr. Kitty hopped up next to him and curled at his side, purring. 

 

“Stop whoring yourself out, Mr. Kitty.” Cartman walked around his desk and sat down. 

 

“She likes me,” Kenny said, scratching behind her ears. 

 

“What’re you in for?” Cartman laced his hands together. “Make it quick. Star Wars comes on TNT in like, half an hour.” 

 

Kenny sighed. He rose from the futon and stood in front of Cartman’s desk. “My sister’s doll is broken. She needs a new one. I bring an offering.” He pulled something out of his pocket and set it in front of Cartman.

 

Cartman looked at the item, up at Kenny, and threw his head back and laughed. “Seriously?” 

 

“This is like the nicest thing I own,” Kenny snapped. “What the hell? You were dying to take it from me when it came out!” 

 

“Yeah, that was forever ago,” Cartman said. “Shit’s outdated now, Kenny. Your PSP, seriously?” 

 

“I looked it up,” Kenny said. “They shut down the Playstation Network on this thing. But I’ve got a bunch of games still. It’s like - antique or something, right? Doesn’t that increase its value?” 

 

“If you’re a moron.” 

 

“I guessed you’d say that, so I brought more.” 

 

“Look, I don’t even have a doll - I got rare Okama games, bikes, and water guns - glocks, rifles, tank attachments - stuff for racing or aquatic warfare. I don’t have  _ dolls _ .” 

 

“Yes, you do,” Kenny said. “Upstairs. In your room.” 

 

Cartman’s eyes widened. “How’d you know about that?!” 

 

“Doesn’t matter. But check this out.” 

 

Kenny unzipped his parka, pulled out a stack of magazines, and laid them out one by one. 

 

“Playboy, October 1979, Burt Reynolds on the cover - that’s from my dad’s old collection. Here’s this, I got it from Kyle’s mom, in her bedroom; Cosmo, April 1972: with Burt Reynolds’ nude centerfold intact. And this Rolling Stones cover from Stan’s dad’s office. Justin Timberlake. Shirtless. With abs.” 

 

The three magazines sat in a row between them. Cartman stared at them, his knuckles going white and face turning red. His eyes flicked up to Kenny’s. “What the hell are you insinuating?” 

 

“I know you’re gay.” 

 

“I’m  _ not _ \- “ 

 

“Just shut up,” Kenny said. “I’m not totally straight. Do you think I only beat off to chicks? Are you kidding? Trust me. These are worth it.” 

 

Cartman paused, considering. He reached for the Cosmo with shaking fingers but Kenny yanked it back. 

 

“Do we have a deal?” 

 

“I’m not giving you Clyde Frog,” Cartman said. “Not even for - not even for Justin.” 

 

“I don’t want your stupid Kermit,” Kenny said. “I just want Polly.” 

 

“Polly Prissypants?” 

 

Kenny opened the Cosmo and let the centerfold drop out. “Will this convince you?” 

 

“Augh - “ Cartman turned away. “No.” 

 

“Listen to me. You think you can find this stuff online? Can you caress Burt Reynolds’ beautiful, hairy chest through a computer screen? This is real tactile, authentic shit. Plus the Playboy. Plus Justin. Plus my PSP.” 

 

Cartman glanced back with a contemplative scowl. 

 

Kenny picked up the rest of the magazines and his PSP and tucked it all back into his parka. “Take it or leave it. Besides my PSP, I stole all that stuff easy. You think I can’t kidnap Polly Prissypants? At least this way, you’ll get something out of it.” Kenny leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk. “You think you can hide this big secret of yours? Everybody knows. But I’m probably the only person who gets it. I’m trying to help you out here. This is all personally tested with quality checks from me. I’m serious, Cartman. You would’ve had a hell of a time.” 

 

He slid his hands off the desk and stepped back, making to leave. 

 

“Wait,” Cartman said. 

 

Kenny smirked, turning. “Yeah?” 

 

“Karen. She’s nice, right?” 

 

“Yeah. Of course.” 

 

“Well… Prissypants and I haven’t had tea parties in awhile, you know. I’m busy with all this business. She’s bored, probably. Clyde Frog is a no-go. But Polly…” Cartman sighed. “Fine.” 

 

Kenny’s eyebrows raised. “For real?” 

 

“Yes, for real! Do you even know me? When I make deals, I mean it.”

 

“Okay.” Kenny sat back down on the futon and resumed petting Mr. Kitty. “Okay then.” 

 

“Wait right there.” 

 

Cartman ran upstairs and returned with Polly Prissypants. He sat down next to Kenny with the doll in his hands, and stared at it for a long while. 

 

“Okay, Polly,” he said. “You’re moving out, bitch. I know I can’t take care of you the way a girl like you deserves. You’re going to a new house. It’s a shitty place, believe me. But your new mom isn’t too bad. And this kid,” Cartman looked at Kenny, “he’ll watch over you. Right?” 

 

Kenny lifted his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

 

“I’m serious!” 

 

“Yes, dude - yes.” Kenny said to Polly, “Don’t worry. What happened to Karen’s other doll won’t happen to you. I promise. You’ll be safe with her.” 

 

“Forget the PSP,” Cartman said. “I don’t wanna deprive you of your only entertainment. I’m getting a Nintendo Switch for Christmas anyway. Just - give me the magazines. Come on.” 

 

Cartman held the doll between them. Kenny reached into his parka and retrieved the magazines. They made the switch. 

 

“Yess,” Cartman sighed, holding the magazines to his chest. “Now get out. I need to be alone with them.” 

 

“Gross. I don’t wanna stick around anyway.” 

 

Cartman snorted. “Sure you do, Kenny. You sick bastard.” 

 

Kenny smiled, shrugging. “Whatever, man. I gotta get back to Karen anyway. Thanks.” 

 

“No,” Cartman said. “Thank you.” 

 

Kenny went back upstairs. He shut the basement door gently, considering standing by to listen in, but decided against it. He’d ask Cartman about it at school on Monday, relish in Cartman’s secret abasement. Kenny really had the guy on a string. 

 

He accepted tupperware from Liane and bid her goodbye. It was darker outside now, but Kenny long ago memorized the route between his house and Cartman’s. The fresh air felt nice, cooled him down as he thought about Cartman jerking off - he was a sick bastard for sure, and if Cartman had anything on  _ him _ , it was knowing the full length of that. 

 

But Kenny was satisfied. He returned home, crawled through his window. He checked on his father to make sure he wasn’t missed, and found Stuart passed out on the couch as he had predicted. 

 

Karen was still in bed, sitting up against her pillows in wait. 

 

“Hey,” Kenny said. “I’m back.” 

 

She smiled reservedly. 

 

He sat next to her and retrieved Polly Prissypants. “Check it out.” 

 

Karen gasped, dropping her old doll to grab her new one. “She’s beautiful!” 

 

“Her name is Polly Prissypants. I got her from a friend. It wasn’t easy. You have to take really good care of her, okay? Don’t forget her in the living room or anything, okay?” 

 

Karen nodded seriously. “I won’t, I swear.” 

 

He picked up her old doll and dusted her off, but it didn’t do much. “We’ll hold a funeral for this one tomorrow. Bury her in the backyard. She deserves it.” Kenny tugged Karen’s ear. “For now, just get the fuck to sleep.” 

 

Karen giggled and wrapped her tiny arms around Kenny’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best.” 

 

“I know,” Kenny said. “Night.” 

 

He slid off her bed and went to his own room, where he set Karen’s old doll on top of his dresser. Then he laid down, ate Liane’s food, and pulled his PSP out to resume the boss fight he started earlier in the day. 

 

He didn’t fix anything, not really - for himself, Karen, or even Cartman - but he liked collecting scraps, and threw bones out occasionally when he could spare them. That’s what he did, and he did it well, at least for today. It was good enough.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> finally on break and christmas has passed so i've got time to write with my new computer. glad to be back at it again. will slowly be completing the rest of these fills for an even which ended months ago, but i need inspiration and this has been pretty fun. up next is the prompt "senseless." 
> 
> i fudged the ages. karen is nine, so assume kenny and cartman are around 13/14 
> 
> please leave a comment letting me know what you think!


End file.
